Courting a medic leads to misery
by Foxyperv
Summary: "The medic had immediatly caught his optic", five drabbles on how well that went...


**WARNINGS:**** this is slash, mech on mech, don't like don't read!**

**RATINGS:**** most are pretty tame but the last one holds a big fat M**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**** you may want to take the time to read my notes at the end if you want further explanations of my theories**

**EDIT: ****I realize now that I maybe should have made it clear that it's not an AU****  
I simply assumed that Wheeljack's ship didn't get repaired in one day, but in two-three of them  
this story is my take on what happened during those days that don't appear on the series**

**1) First approach:**

The Medic had immediatly caught his optic.

"So...you built this bridge from scratch, uh?"

Looking up from his work, said medic turned to him, pointingly glaring at him.

"I did...", he replied suspiciously. The others had done "partying" -not that Ratchet saw how such a ridiculous display of moving limbs pathetically trying to fall to rythme with cacophonic sounds humans called music could be called a party-, and had finally stopped their ruckus in order to get some "shut eye", like Jack had said, so the white bot had been deftly left alone in the control room to do his job, that is : repairing the last glitches those Pit spawned Scraplets had enduced to the main computer. Alone, or so he tought, as he cautiously eyed the newly arrived Autobot that had just adressed him.

"Wow, what's with the face? I'm not criticizing, I can assure you", the white and green one said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, a smirk that aimed for 'charming' adorning his faceplate. Apparently, is aim was a little off because the other snorted derisively.

"That would have been something", he added, a little peeved. "And the 'face' comes from the all too familiar question". The glare was still firmly set on his handsome features and he was clearly on his guard now. Okay, so his aim was actually way off if he got that kind of reaction now, it was more than time he got back in the game before he'd totally lose his charisma. Slagging long _lone_ space trips.

"What do you mean?", he tried to re-engage a friendly conversation, thought he was also curious to what the Medic had meant.

"The other", he started, never losing sight of him -which he hoped was a good one-, "had asked the exact same question before you came about"

That explained the wariness alright. Supressing a sigh of relief upon realizing his charms weren't questionned -bot had to get laid after all-, he openly smiled at him, trying to look as innocent and Autobot-like as possible.

"Don't you think it'd be stupid on my part to ask the same question if I was that same Decepticon, then?" he asked in a soft, gentle voice. "Besides, didn't Bulkhead confirm that I was truly me?", at that he opened his arms, rendering him vulnerable-looking, cocking his head on the side to somehow appear cute.

He was met by another snort.

"Seeing how you've been trying to trigger a soft spot from me to you since the beginning of this encounter I'd say you'd defnitly be stupid enough to do such a thing", and he went back to his repairs, turning his back on the Wrecker so as to ignore him.

Well slag. His charms _were_ questionned after all...

**2) Stubborn**

At least, the Medic didn't seem to see him as a threat anymore, and that, in Wheeljack's book was a victory in itself. Medic was probably playing hard to get anyway, so it was up to the Wrecker to move along the other's expectations for proper courting. Snort, listen to him, "proper courting", quite an elegant way to say "the things to do to get into one's berth". Much shorter too. He couldn't help but snort again at that, earning him a questionning glance from the femme of the team.

She looked quite nice actually, with her long legs and attractive faceplate. Her colours weren't a turn off either, but Wheeljack had a thing for mechs with a nice bulk and, thought he knew Bulkhead wouldn't mind a nice bout of interfacing -he and his old buddy had hit it off quite some times before-, he currently had his optics set on the pretty medbot with a snappy attitude.

"Hey, I _needed_ that!"

Speaking of which...

Wheeljack turned his attention to the main computer, and his main objectif -he snorted again-, to see his sheepishly-looking friend trying to fix one of the few articulate arms that assisted Ratchet in his job, the latter glowering rather nastily at him all the while.

"Sorry, Medbot...", the green Wrecker tried, but was immediatly interrupted by an angry retort.

"Sorry isn't gonna give me that ustentile back, Bulkhead, nor will it ease my workload like it used to do!", by now he was literally fuming, some cogs must have worked overtime by the sheer tension the medbot radiated. "How many time do I have to tell you : Be. Careful. If you can't grasp such a simple concept, then maybe you should-..."

That's when Wheeljack decided to intervene in favor of his old crewmate.

"Now, now, relax Medic", he said as he approached the pair, completely missing the warning glance his friend gave him. "I'm sure he wasn't meaning any harm when he tinkered your tool. Besides", he slapped his arm across the Medic's shoulders and shoved a wrench into his hands, lowering his voice just the slightest, "I'm sure you can repair pretty much anything".

He knew something was off the minute the medbot clenched his fists. He knew he had done a mistake judging by the alarmed expressions everyone -including the humans- was giving him. He knew he was slagged as he ran for his life, an exceedingly scary Ratchet hot on his tail.

**3) Sore loser**

He rubbed the wrench shaped dent in his helm for the empthieth time today. _That_ had been embarassing. After running several times around the base, desperatly trying to stay online -he may be a great fearless warrior but never in his worst nightmares had he encountered such a frightening sight as Ratchet's wrath-, it seemed that Primus finally heard him as Optimus came back to base and was able to calm the Medic -albeit with more than some difficulties, Wheeljack noted anxiously-. Right now, he was hanging about with Bulkhead, half-heartedly cheering the humans as they played some sort of race-game on the screen -can't they do an _actual_ race? It'd be funnier and it would change his mind-, and all thoughts of seducing the Medic had been thoroughly blown up to smitherings. Making a fool of himself once was more than enough in his opinion.

He rubbed the dent again.

"Does it still hurt?", he looked down to the human femme, Miko, and smiled.

"Not the dent, no, but my pride took a low blow", he chuckled. The wrecker had learned a long time ago that laughing at his own expense was the best way to get over an humiliation, and it worked since he immediatly got several simpathetic grins from the gang.

"Yeah, we haven't known Ratchet for long but we quickly caught on to his nasty temper", one of the male humans said, Jack if he remembered correctly. "We probably should have warned you first thing", he gave him an apologetic glance, still grinning.

"Well, we'll be sure to do that with the next of your buddies that comes to visit!", squealed the femme, Miko, excitedly.

"What makes you think they'll be others?", asked the other male human, Raff or Raffayel, he's pretty sure he had heard both.

"Aw, come on!", she squealed again. "Didn't you heard Arcee? 'The _mass_ scattered around the galaxy', that means they are others out there and if Wheeljack was able to come here then the toher can too!", she jumped up and down as she said that. Making the sore mech smile genuinely at her.

"Wonderful. More bots, and more work for me.", grouched a much-too-familiar-at-the-moment voice. Risking a glance in the direction it came from, Wheeljack saw that Ratchet had resumed his post at the main computer, trying his best to repair the earlier articulate arm.

"You're so anti-social", huffed Miko.

"Am not", replied the Ambulance. "I merely enjoy _good_ company", he arched a knowing brow in Wheeljack's direction, making him cringe. Way to move the knife in the wound.

"Come off it, Ratchet", the femme Arcee, said. "Don't you think he had enough bullying for today?", she smirked at him. Apparently, the Medic didn't mind her teasing, as he simply huffed and went back to work.

The little human, Raff, approached him and asked:

"Can I help you in any way?". The ambulance was clearly about to snap at him, but his retort strangely came out a little softer than he had with anybody else.

"No. You may be good with computers, but you know nothing about engineering", he sighed at that. "Neither do I really. I may know my way inside out a bot, but technical tools such as this one work differently than our body structures, so have to puzzle my way around it".

"Is that why you get so mad when we break things?", Raff asked again. The white and green Wrecker had a distinctive feeling that any other would have been snapped at for such an obvious question or, at least, shooed away by now. Instead the medbot simply continued:

"Precisely. And I'm the only one here that has any knowledge close enough to fix it", he glared at nothing and grouched again. "I _had_ told Prime that an engineer would have been helpful, but did the afthead listen? Noooooooo!". Wheeljack perked up at that: he could help. Thought Bulkhead relinquish in old war stories and how great warriors the Wreckers had been, he missed to say that some had been assigned to that team for skills other than warcraft. In Wheeljack's case, it had been his engineer degree that had irked interest.

He was about to offer his help, not for some pathetic seducing plan, mind you -no, had gotten the message: Ratchet not interested-, but to perhaps scrap a little respect out of the medbot before I went away. He wasn't vain per say, but he did had a certain amount of pride that needed serious healing right now. Though before he could Bulkhead stepped in:

"You must be in serious need to get laid if you're now attacking Prime, Medbot", he growled. It was Wheeljack's turn to look at him in an alarming way. He understood his friend's anger -he _was_ very protective of his friends and he had very high regards towards his leader-, but it was clear that Ratchet shared a past with the Prime, probably they were even friends, so the insult wasn't that big a deal, specially since the Medic_ did_ had a point. Plus, he just _knew_ that if his flirt nearly got him deactivated, this crude remark will unleash the Pit itself.

"Badly. But I don't see any of you offering help, so...DEAL WITH IT!"

_Wait, what?_

**4) Bluntness**

The Medic hadn't got his true intentions...(must've thought that Wheeljack was making fun of his abilities or something). No problem then, if subtlety didn't work with the mech, he'd just bluntly "offer his help". He'll make sure to do it in private, though, because if he was sure Ratchet wasn't kidding -if Bulkhead's shocked expression, Bumblebe's failed attempt at distracting the kids and Arcee's knowing chuckle was any indication-, he also had that nagging feeling that he wouldn't appreciate someone offering his services in front of his team.

So here he was, up to his third articulate arm -Primus, what did they do to these things to destroy them like that?-, happily showing he knew his stuff by adding a few upgrades and praying the others would just got to recharge now. He knew the Medic will be the last to go, he looked dedicated like that, but he was almost finished with his assigned work, and he also knew that the minute he did Bulkhead will whisk him away, effectively terminating any chances with the ambulance. It was his last night here, after all.

The little human suddenly opened his mouth, bringing in a lot of air, then letting it all out, making his optics teary, which he rubbed. Oddly enough, this prompt the other humans to do the same, and all energy seemed to fade in that mouvement, humans and Transformers alike.

"I think it's time to go to bed, now", Raff said in a sleepy voice, earning grunts of approval from pretty much everyone, who starting their way towards their quarters.

Primus, he loved that kid.

As passed by Ratchet, he stopped and, facing him with a sweet looking expression, he gently asked him :

"Are you coming too?"

Primus, he hated that kid.

The prompt earned him a snort. "Not before I finish reprogramming the lab so it works to full capacity, no". The little human cocked his head to the side, a little frown on his features.

"Mmmmh, okay...but don't overwork yourself", he said in a worried tone. Another snort was heard.

"I'm the medic, here, I know when to stop", the medic then shooed him away, effectively prompting the yellow bot, Bumblebee, to cradle the boy and leave. Wheeljack swore that the tiniest of smiles, had followed them. Crazy Medbot, cursing at the human kids all the time yet clearly having a soft spot for the youngest of them.

Shaking his thoughts out of that character development, he took the time to really look at the other. A nice sturdy frame, pristine white ready to get dirty, outlined by smooth patches of red-orange on his shoulders and legs -making the latters even more temptable than before- and lines of the same colour that traveled down his limbs and begged to have clever fingers following their path around the Medic's body. Said bot turned the side giving his silent admirer a clear view of his handsomely craft faceplate. He looked sharp, alert...and strained... He was focused, but his optics had a hard time following and he rebooted them often, his brow held a constant frown like his mouth a constant scowl, his whole frame, Wheeljack now realized, was held in a stiff posture that radiated tension, stress, tiredness...

_'Primus, but he _really_ needs to frag'_, the Wrecker swore that the cables in his neck and shoulders could snap any moment given how overworked they looked from where he was. Tension was was a little more than a simple strain of your body, it was a charge in itself. Usually you vent it out naturally by simply calming down -your spark letting go of the surplus of energy it created under emotions- but when someone's life was a constant tension factor, the built up energy can become too much for the spark too deal with, hence a constant energy pressure that strain your system even more. Most bot didn't knew that, because most bots dealt with it in their everyday life without even noticing it: warriors sparred or fought the excess of energy out, youngling played around until they fell into recharge, interface systems got into gear so you'd put some of that energy into finding a partner and the rest in blowing your processors sky-high.

It was actually the main objectif of interfacing when it was designed several millenias ago, to get rid of the excess of energy a spark could hold. Thought nowadays it had been forgotten (and the governement's idea to use such systems to ensure new generations (with organic-like mods inducing organic-like reproduction), after the whole protoform crisis a few centuries ago, didn't help much), it was still it's primal use.

Surely a medic would know that, _he_ was an engineer and he had learned about that first thing in school, so the guys that actually took care of such equipment had to know what was it's real use. So why hadn't he took care of the problems wiht his own hands? Literally, he meant. A partner was nice but you could easily get rid of the excess by yourself. From his earlier retort, he knew he was building a charge, so once again, why wasn't he doing anything about it?

Looking pass the tempting silhouette, he noticed with a frown that the algorythm on the screen had nothing to do with the lab re-programming. Ratchet, had now passed to some sort of anti-frost lubricant solution. He was dedicated like that...only there it went beyond dedication and directly to a fragging death wish by exhaustion. The mech probably pushed himself to the limit, then just passed out before he could have a chance to recalibrate his motor functions, processor and spark through self-service.

_'Know when to stop, my aft'_, Wheeljack thought as he finished re-wiring the last compenent in the articulate arm. He calmly put the tools away, checking his handy-work at the same time, then he simply came to the medic, saved his work and shut the computer down.

"Hey! What the frag-Humph!", any angry retort was cut short by the engineer's glossa sliding down his air intakes.

He had expected to be shoved away, punched, yelled, to have to seduce the ambulance through teasings and strokings, to maybe nearly molest him if he was that stubborn -and he looked like that kind of mech-, but not exactly to be kissed back with a growl, hands suddenly roaming _everywhere_, then forcefully dragged to the Medic's quarter.

Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

**5) Aftermath**

He was leaving now.

_He's forcefully pushed against a door in a dark corridor, the other's weight pinning him there, one hand scrapping against his frame, the other trying to punch in the codes to enter. It'd be easier if he let go of the white's one mouth but he doesn't want to lose the entertwinement of their glossas, so he growls as he grabs the ambulance's helmet to steady him there, his other hands wondering down his back. A loud mewl escapes the other's lips when he found his aft, fondling it, an even louder moan escapes as he slips his fingers into the seams between the thigh and the crotch, making the medic grind against him. Electricity charges and snaps as their crotches meet, making him gaspand rev his engines, making the other groan as his mouth is finally released. Slumping against the door, rendered passive by too much sensations, he notices the grinding noises, the soft gasps of his soon-to-be lover, his own low grunts, and wonders briefly if the others can hear them._

His ship was finally repaired and he was currently saying goodbye to everyone.

_A beeping and a swooshing noise is all he hears as he falls into darkness, the other's weight still on him. They crash to the floor, slidding a few feet further by the force of their two bodies colliding in a desperate attempt to be closer, to further the contact of their writhing limbs, to merge into the other's desire. A gush of cold air suddenly grips the Engineer's chestplate as the white bot straightens up, deftly straddling him, his thighs warm around his hips, his arching silhouette cut on the dark light of the corridor. The Wrecker's breath catches in his intakes, his hands shoot up to those delicious grey hip, thumbing the orange protuberances and earning him a soft moan. The door slides shut, and all he can see now in the thick darkness of the room is his lover's lust-filled optics._

The human femme's dissapointment to his departure endears him somehow.

_Hands are roaming down his chestplates, they start at the shoulders and slowly make their way down, no fingering, no pressure, simple flat hands mapping out him out, trying to get as much of him in one go. They reach his waist, then they go up again, he can hear the other panting, a shiver runs down his back. His hands follow his lover's mouvement, he starts going down his aft, then slides down his thighs until he reaches the back of the other's knee joints. Unlike him, he doesn't go back up, but inserts a finger into a seam, gently rubbing the wiring there. His lover exhales a shaky breath, bending down on him, he can feel his chevron underneath his chin, his hands stilled on his abdomen. One hand in the knee joint, the other going down his feet, he reaches the wheel that he squeezes before slipping his fingers into the bolt holding it there. He tears a moan from the white one this time, making him twitch, he feels teasing fingers going up his chestplates, up to his neck, and dipping themselves into the crevices there. It's his time to moan, but it is silenced by the searing kiss his lover unleashes on him, glossa carefully massaging every parts of his mouth as his pelvis grinded down on him, deeply, slowly. He lifts his hand off his lover's legs, rubbing his back, grabbing his nape, urging him for more contact. _

His friend's understanding warms his spark as it always did.

_The other never stops rolling of his hips, not even when he finally releases his mouth, a playful lick before completely backing up. His hands have followed, they ghost their way down once again, only this time, as they reach the waist, they go further, caressing his crotchplate gently. His hips rise upin an attempt to ge more, the other chuckles gently, chastisizing him. The fingers dip on the side of his crotch, yet he still feels a warmth, along witht he occasional brush of something. He understand that the other's other hand, gently rubbing his own crotchplate, dipping his fingers on the side, slowly making his way to the latches. Another rev, much louder this time escapes his engines, a click shortly follows it, he feels something slowly coating his thighs, the other's panting a little harsher than before. The grinding continues, only this time it isn't the grate of hard metal on hard metal but the silent slip of soft sensitive metal on hot hard metal. He moans, loudly, a low whimper answers him, and he can't help but wonder about his lover's lack of noise._

The Medic's indifference strangely leaves him a bittersweet taste on the glossa.

_A twist of fingers besides his pannel and another soft click is heard. His breathing itches as he's finally released in the cold air, he gasps as warm moist metal rubs on him. It's all he can feel, and in the darkness he cannot see if his lover has also released himself. Any coherent thoughts are blown away as humid warmth engulf him suddenly. He feels like his whole being his pressurized by that warmth, he feels the slide down as he feels his tremors going up his back, he feels the wet rim against his crotch and the weight of his lover above him. He feels the slide back up, leaving a humid trail behind and along him, the near broken connection at the very top, the even fall and the slight pause. He feels it all, his lover's pace rendering him no choice, slowly, painfully working them towards oblivion. His hands slide down the other's waist, trying to even up the pace somehow, to make forget himself into the continuous sensations a rapid pace offers, but he fails. His lover doesn't budge one iota from his own pace, rabidly taking his pleasure however he wanted from him, and all he can do is grab on to the other as he feels himself slowly sinking into an ocean of numbing pleasure._

"Jackie never stays, but he always comes back"

_He never could settle for one lover. He had always considered himself a free spark, one that wisely went from body to body, relinquishing in the wonderful friendships he had made along the way, and yet they were bodies he took a liking too, that he came back to. Usually it had something to do with the spark that came with it. Sometimes, it was just that great of a body. After each encounter with a body, he knew what it was: a friend or a one-nighter, someone he'll care for or someone he'll never see again. This time...he honestly didn't knew what it was... All he knew, is that when he woke up that morning, still laying on the floor, alone, feeling like an used tool one had carelessly left behind, he had told himself three things:_

He punched his friend's fist with all the tender affection he could muster.

_1) The body wasn't that great._

He leaned in a little against him, enjoying the warmth and affection he knew was there.

_2) The spark was one of a slagger._

"It's like a recurring nightmare", he heard the ambulance sigh.

_3) He desperatly wanted both back._

Oh, he'll come back alright, and this time, he'll know what it is.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **

**So I blame the latest TFP episode and GeminiGirl83 back at DA for this**  
**(apparently injecting you has some side effect w||||)**

**Raff is the most adorable thing ever and I believe that he triggers Ratchet's mother bear programming XD**

**I'm a rabid Transfan and anyone who knows me knows that**  
**also I love sticky (if that's not obvious by now) but as I cruised deeper into the canon I started realizing:**  
**"hey! these guys are robots! why do they genitals? (that was actually very well explained by I don't remember which comm.) and why would they even have sex?**  
**so I started thinking and this theory came up**  
**I'd like very much you told me what you thought of it**

**also I'd like to add that if I'm posting the smut here it's because I don't actually see it as smut**  
**it's erotica, which is different in my opinion:**  
**porn and smut are crude and/or very ghrapically detailed**  
**erotica is more about implying things and describing sensations**  
**I'd like to think I did a good job at that**  
**please leave a criticism of it**

**finally, I was aiming towards funny but as I wrote this I settled for a bittersweet ending**  
**I blame Ratchet in general**  
**he's my fav autobot for his "I won't take crap from you" attitude and yet he stays allof to avoid getting hurt by losing a friend **  
**he's good guy, we all know it...but what about the others?**  
**somebody that meets him for the first time**  
**that doesn't understand his line of thinking, who's taken aback by his attitude that could be seen as terribly moody if you don't know a little**  
**hence Wheejack's perfect role**  
**once again comment are appreciated!**


End file.
